


Nighttime Conversations

by Dotdotbeepdot



Series: My Storyline [14]
Category: A Heist With Markiplier, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Illinois being a good dude, Yancy being homesick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 14:51:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21447997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dotdotbeepdot/pseuds/Dotdotbeepdot
Summary: Illinois is awake and finds Yancy outside being angsty
Relationships: Illinois/Yancy, if you want to see it like that - Relationship
Series: My Storyline [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567675
Comments: 4
Kudos: 139





	Nighttime Conversations

Illinois was having another night of insomnia. He’s only been asleep for an hour and then some walked past his door. It’s been another hour since then and nothing. He ended up giving up trying to sleep tonight, instead getting up to get a glass of water, maybe talk with Mike while he’s at it.

Illinois had grabbed his glass, had a little chat with the night guard while in the kitchen before he had to go back to work, and was about to go back to his room when he saw someone outside. He blinked, counting how much he’s been up and if he would be having hallucinations, but then he saw the person adjust where they sat and saw a flash of black and white stripes.

Why was Yancy outside?

Illinois walked over to the sliding glass door and opened it, poking his head out into the freezing night air. Yancy glanced up from whatever he was hunched over and twisted around to see who was there, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He took it out to greet the other.

“What’re youes doing up?” Well, not exactly a greeting. 

Illinois shrugged. “Can’t sleep,” he answered, opening the door wider and leaned against the doorway. “Why are you up?” Yancy shrugged as well.

“Same thing I guess,” he mumbled, putting down the pen he was holding in his left and picking up the box of cigarettes instead, offering one to Illinois. “Youes can stay ‘ere with me if youes want.”

Illinois moved to sit next to the ex-convict, giving a small shake of his head and wave to the cigarettes. Yancy put it back down and put out his own, tossing it to the side and picking back up his pen. It looked like he was writing, a beaten up spiral notebook in his lap. Illinois watched him write, smearing ink across the page and making his sloppy handwriting almost unreadable. Fortunately, being an adventurer, he was used to reading unreadable things.

Yancy seemed to be writing a song. The writing at the top was a bunch of scratched out titles, eventually settling on  _ Family Makes 3. _ The lyrics were a little better than the title. In the creativity aspect. Really, the lyrics seemed a little dark. It talked about his parents, his child and teen hood. It… didn’t look like it was the best. Then it talked about prison, which was a much happier sounding, even if some of the words were a little concerning. Right now, he was writing about the manor, and he seemed to have the most struggle there. A lot of the words were scratched out and there were question marks around some.

“Don’t you think it’s a little cold out,” Illinois interrupted the silence in between them, making Yancy stop and look up at him. “To be writing is all. It’s almost 3am and 28 degrees out.”

“I like the cold,” Yancy put his pen in his notebook and closed it, leaning back. “It’s like in the prison. The prison was always fuckin’ cold.”

Illinois shook his head. “I hate the cold. Harder to go out adventuring when it’s cold out,” Yancy hummed in thought, staring down at his notebook’s cover. The thing was barely being held together with tape and the few loops still in the wire. “What were you writing?” Even though Illinois already knew, it was nicer for him to tell then just bringing it up.

“A new song,” Yancy immediately hunched into himself. “I uh, I used to write a lotta songs in prison. Warden said it was a healthy way of gettin’ my feelings out. It’s stupid, but I think it’s fun. I always liked that shit.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Illinois said, trying to sound nonchalant, but not uncaring. He smiled at him just in case. “Do you sing them?” Yancy nodded, looking less embarrassed and more excited.

“Yeah, used to sing and dance and all that jazz,” he smiled proudly at that, finally looking up from the cover and turning to smile at Illinois. “My family did too. They were a little ‘eh’ about it at first, but they’s came around and really had fun with it. Became a little therapy thing there.”

“What about your real family?” Illinois questioned innocently. “Did your parents like that stuff too?”

Yancy’s grin dropped and Illinois mentally winced. “No,” he was quiet again, turning back to his notebook. “They didn’t like that shit. Thought I might turn out gay or somethin’.” Illinois winced out loud at that.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to open an old wound.”

“‘s fine.” Yancy said, opening his notebook again and picking up his pen. He was shutting Illinois out.

They sat in silence for a little longer, Yancy continuing to write and Illinois trying to rub feeling back into his legs. How Yancy can be out here with just a t-shirt and loose pants was beyond him. He seemed to notice that Illinois was cold.

“Youes can go back inside if youes want,” Yancy said, breaking the moment of silence. “I can stay out ‘ere alone, ya know.”

“I know,” Illinois said quickly. “I don’t want to leave just yet.”

Silence filled the air again. This time it didn’t last as long as Yancy let out a frustrated shout and rip his pen across the page, a deep line ran across the section he was working on. He threw down his notebook and covered his face in his hands. Illinois waited a bit before talking again, keeping his voice low.

“Yance? You alright?”

“It’s so hard being here,” Yancy admitted behind his hands. “Everyone’s so… they’re all criminals too, but they don’t  _ care _ .” He dropped his hands to stress the word, moving them to cover the back of his neck and resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not the same as the prison. Wilford and Bing like to say we’s family, but I don’t  _ feel _ it. It’s just not the same and I want to go home.” His voice cracked at the last word and he went back to covering his face.

Illinois frowned. He wasn’t surprised by the outburst. Yancy wasn’t as social as the others, he was even more introverted than Host. He stayed in his room all day, only coming out to eat. Even at meals, he picked at his food and ate little. He wasn’t happy here and not a lot of egos saw that. 

“I wasn’t…” Illinois hesitated continuing, but then Yancy looked up at him with big, dark eyes. “It was hard for me to be here too. I was always… a lone wolf. Didn’t have much of a family when I was young and I’m not much of a relationship guy so I had no one waiting for me after adventures. Then I come here and they tell me I have a home and family here. It was… a lot for me at first. At first, I was just waiting for the outside to warm up so I can leave again.”

“Then why did you stay?” Yancy’s voice was shaky and his eyes red. Illinois hated crying, but God, he was close to it seeing him so broken.

“I grew attached,” he whispered, giving a soft shrug. “I got attached to the idea of something permanent. Very out of character for me, but I did. I get that you miss your life at the prison, but your trying to get better right? You’re on parole, for that friend of yours, you got a job here and a room. You can always visit your family, they would be thrilled to see you so happy here.”

Yancy look down at the floor, tighten his grip on his arms when his hands shook. He smiled, broken and sad, and he nodded at Illinois. 

“They would be happy, huh?” Illinois grinned and nodded too.

“They would be so proud of you, Yance,” he edged on, throwing an arm around the other. “You can tell them all about your new job and new home and all the songs you’ve been writing.” Yancy nodded again, leaning his head back on Illinois arm and smiling up at him.

“Thanks, Noisy,” Illinois chuckled at the nickname, Yancy letting out a confused huff as well. “What?”

“The ‘s’ is silent, actually,” Illinois joked. “But it’s cute when you say it.” Yancy could feel him blush and shoved Illinois off him, still laughing lightheartedly.

“Alright,” the adventurer pushes himself to his feet, stretching and sighing when his joints popped. “I’m going to head inside before I get frostbite. I suggest you do the same.” He glanced down at Yancy and saw him opening his notebook again and write something down on a new page.

“I’ll be in soon.”

Illinois fought back another laugh when he saw Yancy write down  _ Noisy Man  _ and turned back to the house. He hopes he’ll hear that song later.

**Author's Note:**

> I was practicing writing Illinois and idk this happened


End file.
